


Moonshadow

by Rees



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Genderswap, M/M, Mpreg, Other Beasties, Werewolves, kind of?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-20 16:21:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18528700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rees/pseuds/Rees
Summary: "There were many times in his life when he had to wonder how life could be so cruel and brutal. Why did it have to be such a struggle just obtain a sliver of hope or happiness? At some point the resignation settles in and then there are no more questions, just an acceptance that weighs equally as heavy as the disappointment."A soldier meets a werewolf and finds more comfort in a monster than he ever did among his own kind.





	Moonshadow

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of a side story to something I'm working on. I've never used AO3 before so this is also me testing the waters and catching up on the learning curve. I will try to update the tags as I go.

There were many times in his life when he had to wonder how life could be so cruel and brutal. Why did it have to be such a struggle just obtain a sliver of hope or happiness? At some point the resignation settles in and there are no more questions, just an acceptance that weighs equally as heavy as the disappointment.

You learn to not have expectations, to fear hope, to turn away from it. If you refuse it, then it can’t be taken away. His heart had no more room to bleed anymore than it already did. The war did nothing to help. All you needed was to follow orders. Focus on the mission. Live. Return. Start over again.

In a different time, even soldiers could find hope, to dream of returning home, but this war had been catastrophic. Society had been turned on its head. Nothing remained the same. It reminded him of those crazy TV shows that had like zombies or vampires or whatever. The kind where suddenly humanity found itself on the bottom of the food chain.

Which, in a way, reminded him of his current predicament. He was lying low, scanning the area for threats. He could distantly hear the sporadic sound of gunfire. The rounds were growing fewer. He counted his clip.

They were supposed to be escorting a supply truck. Something had felt off about the mission. Something in his gut told him it was a bad idea. It wasn’t his job to question it. His job was to point and shoot.

He was a pretty damn good shot, even without the adrenaline coursing his veins. He listened. He looked. Hell, he even scented the air. His nose may not have been as good as a wolf’s, but every bit of information counted when the survival of your entire race was on the line.

Every fiber of his being was telling him danger was close by. His instincts, what little a human had, were at conflict. No matter what he did, stay or go, he was in danger. Nowhere was safe. He took a couple of quiet, calming breaths through his nose.

He was going to move. He needed to find the others. They needed to regroup. Their opponent had been smart, utilizing a divide and conquer tactic that had worked far better than it should have, considering the combined experience of their escort.

The cool breeze made him aware of how warm his skin felt. He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His clothes felt damp with it. The material stuck to him uncomfortably. His vest and gear were starting to chafe.

Another thing had him on edge. He didn’t see any bodies. There were mild signs of struggles. He couldn’t deny hearing gunfire earlier but it was eerily quiet now. As he crept along, he saw casings here and there and small amounts of blood. There was no telling whose blood, human or otherwise. That wasn’t an unfamiliar thought. It wasn’t the first time he had acknowledged that they all bled the same way. 

He was nearly back to the truck when the hair on his neck stood on end. The hot puff of air he suddenly felt was hardly soothing. He swung around fiercely, his rifle at the ready but in an instant it was no longer in his hands. Just as suddenly, he felt weightless and then the air was leaving his lungs as he hit the ground.

It was disorienting but he forced himself to his feet as quickly as he could. The world spun around him but his eyes tried to focus on his attacker yet it was his ears that detected his opponent first. He swung left, ducking to lower his balance. Everything was a blur and time seemed irrelevant. The fight was seemingly eternal and yet over in an instant. Something snagged his vest as he went down over a log but a strap broke and he took a tumble down a shallow slope. 

He nearly concussed himself on a small boulder when a weight settled on him that wasn’t all his own. He was pinned, face down, with a werewolf on his back. It took a few seconds for the world to stop spinning. His head was aching and if his adrenaline wasn’t still rushing he might have vomited.

One could hardly call it a struggle after that, yet even knowing his attacker wasn’t human, the soldier was still surprised by the weight of the other. From appearance alone, he guessed they looked about the same size, but the werewolf felt like he was twice the weight. He held the human down with little effort, pinning both of the soldier's hands behind his back. No amount of wiggling or struggling would budge him.

A few more puffs of air told the soldier that he was being scented. He didn’t know why. He couldn’t think of a reason the wolf would feel inclined to be familiar with his scent. He was good as dead now anyways. Still he went rigid when the werewolf leaned in close and took a deep breath through his nose.

Instead of claws or teeth, the soldier was surprised when the werewolf chose to speak. “Easy there, cowboy. What’s a sweet thing like you doing all the way out here.” It wasn’t posed as a question but it wasn’t entirely mocking either. There was clearly some amusement in the wolf’s tone but oddly he didn't sound condescending.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” The wolf grinned toothily. The soldier could feel it in the words, in the way the wolf chose to stress certain syllables. He was not nearly as amused, refusing to respond to the wolf’s goading, no matter how good-natured it may have sounded initially. He was made of tougher stuff than that and he wasn’t so weak-minded or weak-willed to-

He'd nearly jumped out of his own skin, if there hadn't been something weighing him down, and the hiss that escaped him was nearly deafening in the quiet forest. He couldn’t resist squirming when he a roaming hand dove under his shirt, ghosting his side just above his hip. The hand dipped beneath the prone body and how the wolf had managed it so easily, the soldier had no idea. When a clawed digit dipped into the soldier’s naval, he instantly tried to buck the wolf off of him.

“Ooh, you've got spirit.” The wolf chuckled, removing the offending hand. The man tried to clear his mind, stay calm, think clearly. He willed his heart to steady. The wolf watched attentively, almost patiently if the soldier could believe it. It was unnerving. What game was the wolf playing at? Why wasn’t he dead yet? If the wolf wanted something else, he'd sorely regret it. 

“What’s your name?” The question sounded so innocent that the soldier nearly thought to answer it. The wolf's tone was inquisitive and amiable. 

A few seconds ticked by with heavy silence between them. The soldier half-expected his head to be yanked back by his hair or something entirely and ridiculously dramatic but that never came. The wolf waited him out. The soldier caved. “Why does it matter?”

The wolf perked up to the sound of his captive’s voice, sounding entirely elated to finally be having a two-way conversation. “I want to know what to call you.” 

To the soldier, that didn’t make sense either, and he threw a suspicious glance sideways but it was lost on the wolf. “Again, why does it matter?” 

“I could make up a name.” Was the wolf’s response. The soldier wondered briefly if the wolf was dodging the question but was distracted when the wolf started throwing out names. “How about Randall, Randy, or Rudolph, or Rudy!” The last one was spoken with a bark of delight, the wolf clearly liking that one best.

The soldier made a noise between an annoyed huff and frustrated groan. He muttered something under his breath but it was too inaudible even for the wolf. “What was that?” The wolf leaned down, tilting his head, leaning his ear in the direction the man’s mouth was facing. His captive stilled again, feeling their proximity shift. The werewolf could smell the nervousness on the man, despite the human's impressive ability to calm his heart rate.

After a beat, the soldier finally spoke again. “Noah.”

“Noah?” The wolf repeated, sounding a little confused.

“My name is Noah.” The man affirmed. If he could see the werewolf's face, he might have taken offense at the way the wolf's nose had wrinkled. There was another beat or two of silence and the man wondered what the wolf was thinking. He didn’t have to wait much longer than that.

“Like the guy in the Bible with the boat?”

Noah had to resist the urge to snort. Disappointment was evident in the wolf's tone, either not impressed with Biblical stories or perhaps with the man’s name. He might’ve found it rude except he wasn’t terribly fond of the name either.

“It was an ark, but yeah, like that guy.” He wasn’t sure when most of the tension in his shoulders had eased but the wolf had noticed. The soldier hadn’t the foggiest idea why his captor was suddenly delighted all over again.

“Well Noah, it’s a real pleasure to meet you. My name is Claude.”


End file.
